


Recruitment

by elistaire



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Language, Gen, given as a NYR anon gift 2007/2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smecker just needs to get through his 6th Advanced Crime Scene Reconstruction class, for the mandatory hours.  One of the baby-agents has stars in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karihan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karihan/gifts).



> Originally written an an anon gift; am now de-anoning. (3+ years isn't too long to do that, yes?) (Also, you can see it wasn't quite long enough to be a NYR gift fic, so I just put it a comment...somewhere way back when.)
> 
> Written for karihan. Prompt: _Any/Agent Paul Smecker  
>  There is your only stipulation . the story has to focus on Paul Smecker. Use any of the other characters, or none as you like.  
> _

The thing was, he didn't actually need to take the class. Hell. He could teach the damned thing in his sleep. But that didn't mean that the F. B. of I. didn't have certain regulations regarding its agents and their necessity for so many hours of classroom time a year. Hence, here he was, taking Advanced Crime Scene Reconstruction for the sixth frickin' time in a row.

He eyed the other Special Agents as they filed into class. They all looked like they'd been stamped out of the same sheet of metal: lean, hard-eyed, ballsy. He was more like them than he wanted to be, and certainly too different from them for comfort.

Ah, it was all pissed, anyway, as a certain acquaintance of his might say.

Smecker flicked his cigarette into the purposefully placed cigarette-holder outside the building and followed another dark suited Special Agent through the walkway and into the wing with the classrooms. He touched his cell phone where it hung against his hip, but knew that the entire complex was in a no-transmission zone, done on purpose by the agency. He smirked. Every other agent in the room still had their own cell phones clipped to their hips like mother-fucking iv lines.

"Special Agent Smecker," said the paunchy man at the front, obviously close to retirement, and fighting every pound until he punched the clock for the last time. "Glad you could join us."

Smecker inclined his head and took a seat in the back of the room. The Special Agent right in front of him turned around and eyed him curiously. He looked like he was barely out of diapers.

"Special Agent Smecker," he repeated. "The Special Agent Smecker who handled the bloodbath vigilante case up in Boston?" To the sides of the kid, several other Special Agents started getting interested. Smecker didn't particularly appreciate that; he liked to keep a low profile on this certain topic of discussion.

Smecker gave him nothing. "Class is about to begin."

At lunchtime, somehow, the kid managed to get next to him as they worked their way through the line in the cafeteria. Persistent little sucker. Smecker grabbed one of the pre-packaged salads and a fruit bowl.

"Special Agent Callaghan," he said as he picked up a bowl of chocolate pudding and put it on his tray.

"I know, Special Agent Callaghan," Smecker said. "We introduced ourselves in class, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

Smecker detected a hint of Southie accent then. The boy must have either been covering it up, or else tended toward it more strongly when in social conditions. "You're from Boston, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir. Bred and raised."

"Hmm." Smecker turned and walked away.

The kid followed him. "Listen, I don't mean to interrupt--"

"Then don't."

"--but that whole case was why I wanted to join the Bureau in the first place. I read everything about it. I have so many questions--"

Smecker held up his hand. "Where are you assigned, Special Agent Callaghan?"

"Pittsburgh, but I'm hoping to get back to Boston soon."

Smecker nodded and considered the kid more fully. Homegrown, curious, already on the inside. Plus, he had an auspicious surname. Possibly inclined, and possibly useful. But he needed to proceed with recruitment very carefully. Smecker smiled, and he knew it was perhaps a little too toothy. "I'll tell you what. When you get posted to Boston, you look me up then. I'll show you the sights."

"I'd really appreciate that," the kid said, his eyes shining in a very un-Special Agent sort of way. For Pete's sake, didn't they vet these wet-behind-the-ears babies anymore, Smecker asked himself.

Smecker picked up his tray. He needed to get outside for a smoke, and some air. As he left, he said, "Yeah, I think you will."


End file.
